


hazy shade of winter

by coldwinterrose



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Happy Ending, Hedge Witch Steve Rogers, M/M, Magic, Memory Loss, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 23:25:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18398489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldwinterrose/pseuds/coldwinterrose
Summary: While on a mission, James Barnes is hit with a curse which causes him to forget his entire life. But when even the best curse breakers SHIELD has can't figure out how to reverse it, he turns to a local hedge witch for help.One he starts to feel a certain pull to the more he spends time with him.(A modern magical realism AU)





	hazy shade of winter

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, and welcome to my submission for the 2019 shrinkyclinks fest!
> 
> When I saw this prompt: "Magical realism. Bucky has been cursed to forget. Steve is a witch, and Bucky comes to him for some type of potion/medicine to help him with his curse." I _knew_ I had to write for it, and I'm so happy I got the chance to!
> 
> The title is from the song Hazy Shade of Winter, originally by Simon and Garfunkel, but the only version I've heard is by Gerard Way. You can check out that version [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZTCrqXpKHec)!
> 
> The magic itself was partially inspired by The Magicians. I blame writing this fic for making me give the show a second chance and thus falling madly in love with it. If you like magical realism and kind of cheesy but good shows, I'd recommend giving it a shot!
> 
> Also, huge thanks to [mortenavida](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mortenavida) for the beta! I really appreciate all your help! <3
> 
> Now on to the fic!

Bucky sighed as he exited the locker room toward the loading area. Around him, agents were loading weapons and casting protective charms, prepping for various missions. Natasha was waiting for him, making sure her gauntlets were in perfect working order. Couldn’t have the Black Widow without her stingers, after all.

“I don’t get why they’re sending us on this mission,” he said as he walked up to her. “From what I can tell of the intel, this seems like a milk run, something a group of field agents can handle no problem.”

“Fury requested us specifically.”

“Which means he doesn’t trust the intel.”

She just gave him her patented smirk. “Which means we have a mission to complete, Soldier, so let’s get to it.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes as she addressed him by his codename. He’d trained for a while in Siberia, which earned him the nickname _Winter Soldier_ , one she loved to use every chance she could get, finding it amusing for reasons he still didn’t totally understand.

“Yeah, yeah, Widow. Let’s try to make this quick, I have plans this evening.”

—

“This is the last time I believe Fury when he says _minimum security_ ,” Bucky snarked as he blocked a bullet aimed for his head with his vibranium arm before ducking behind a pillar to get his bearings. 

Natasha almost sounded out of breath on the comms, which was worrying since between the two of them she was much better at getting through throngs of goons without even breaking a sweat. “Like you said, Fury didn't trust the intel.”

He squared his shoulders, reloaded his weapons, and then emerged all guns blazing to hit his targets dead center. He might not have the magical skill others possess, but damn if he wasn’t the best shot in SHIELD. No matter what certain people might like to think otherwise. 

Now free to get a better look at his surroundings, he determined he was in the best position to head straight for the artifact.

“Widow, I’m going in.”

“Copy, Soldier. I’ll be there as soon as take care of the rest of this mess.”

He felt his arm calibrate as he prepared himself for an all-out assault. He quietly made his way toward the room at the end of the hall, not wanting to give away his position. After testing if there was anything preventing him from touching the door, he turned the handle, going in gun first, only to be met with an empty room. 

Confused but not letting his guard down, he slowly made his way into the room toward the artifact sitting on the table. It all seemed way too easy, setting off his paranoia that there had to be something more to this. Before he had a chance to scan the area, the door slammed shut behind him, and Bucky spun, training his gun on the man standing there.

“Ah, I see SHIELD has finally made its move. Though I’m shocked and rather disappointed they went with the brute force route. I’d heard such good things about the spellcasters, and was hoping to see if they lived up to their reputation.”

He guessed this was who they’d been sent to apprehend, the warlock who’d stolen the artifact. He refused to take the man’s bait, knowing full well how tricky warlocks can be. 

“Aww, shy? Well, now we can’t have that, can we. Why don’t you introduce yourself,” the man said as he tried to make a move with his hand, one Bucky stopped with a well-aimed bullet. Clearly not expecting the shot, he barely dodged before he could complete the spell. Bucky went for the nearest pillar, hoping that the man needed to have eyes on his target for any spells to work. 

“You can’t hold me off forever, you know,” the warlock gloated as he got his bearings back. “You’ll slip up eventually.”

Bucky moved as quietly as his training allowed, trying his best to move as close to the artifact as possible without alerting the warlock. The man made it easy though, he kept going on and on about how it was pointless to try, how he would overpower Bucky. It took everything in Bucky to not roll his eyes and focus on his target. A few steps away though, the warlock jumped in front of him, catching him off guard.

“Like I said, you can’t hold me off forever.”

It was the last thing Bucky registered before his entire world went black and he knew no more.

—

Somewhere, far in the distance, there was a beeping. It was incessant, and all he wanted to do was make it stop. Though his body fought against him, he managed to pry his eyes open, and assessed his surroundings. He appeared to be in a hospital of some kind, surrounded by wires and machines. The only other person here with him was a woman curled up in a chair in the corner, who got up when she saw he was awake.

“James. How are you feeling.”

“Fine. I think? Only… who is James?”

That caused the woman to freeze. “Do you know who I am?”

He shook his head. “Sorry. Should I?”

She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yes, we’re friends. My name is Natasha.” She reached over to press a button on the remote next to his bed. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure out what’s going on.”

James… he supposed he was James anyway, settled back in the bed. He had no reason not to trust her after all. It felt almost _right_ to trust her, though he wasn’t quite sure why. But, for some reason, his easy acceptance seemed to worry Natasha even more. She glanced at the door when the doctor came in, followed by a man in an eyepatch and dark trench coat. 

“Ah, Agent Barnes, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

He glanced at Natasha, who gave him a small nod, telling him it was okay to talk to these people.

“I’m fine? Other than I have no idea who anyone is, including myself.”

The doctor pursed her lips. “So, no pain in your head or neck? No dizziness?”

James shook his head again. “Nope. All fine.”

The man in the eyepatch nodded. “A curse then. You were right, Dr. Rivera.”

“Only our curse breakers haven’t been able to figure out what curse was used.”

“I’m sorry,” James interrupted. “Did you say curse?”

The doctor looked at James with he supposed was a kind look, but the pity he read in it grated. Before he could say anything though, Natasha spoke up. “She did. I’d hoped I was wrong, but the warlock managed to get a curse off before I shot him.”

“Shot him,” James asked, a little surprised to hear it mentioned so casually.

Natasha nodded, looking guilty. “I’m sorry, James. I was too slow.”

James shook his head. “I don’t remember, but I’m sure it’s not your fault.”

“Maybe not, but because agent Romanoff killed the warlock, we can’t figure out which curse he used,” the man in the eyepatch said.

“Well, we should let Agent Barnes rest,” Dr. Rivera said, trying her best to diffuse the situation.

“Actually,” Natasha chimed in, “I’d like Director Fury to stay for a moment.”

The doctor looked dubious at the idea. “So long as everyone can keep calm.”

The two others just looked at the doctor, almost offended at the idea they couldn’t keep things professional. She just held her hands up in surrender and walked out of the room.

“Agent Romanoff?” Director Fury asked.

“I know SHIELD curse breakers haven’t been able to figure out what’s wrong with Agent Barnes, but I know someone who can,” she responded.

“Oh? And who is this person who is somehow more powerful than the most gifted magic users SHIELD could find?”

“I’m not at liberty to say, sir. But I promise you, Agent Barnes will be safe, and this person can and will find a way to break this.”

“Barnes, are you okay with this?”

James just shrugged. “I have no reason not to be.”

Directory Fury stood silent for a moment before nodding. “Fine. But if anything happens to Barnes, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

Natasha just gave a short nod, and Fury left without another word.

—

James wasn’t exactly sure what to expect when they walked up to the building, but a quaint looking shop was the last thing that would have come to mind. The beautifully hand-painted sign hanging on the front proudly displayed _Sarah’s Apothecary_ , and little chimes rang as Natasha opened the door to let them both in.

What lay inside was even less what James expected. He was shocked at how comfortable and safe this place felt. He had an urge to curl up in one of the cushy chairs in the corner with a warm mug tea, or to poke at one of the many bookcases lining the walls. And, somehow, the little tables which held vials of liquids and baskets of ingredients scattered throughout the rest of the space felt less cluttered and more like they belonged right where they were.

Natasha didn’t seemed at all fazed by this place, but rather strode right up to the desk and rang the bell that was placed there. 

Rather than the female voice he expected, a rather deep _male_ voice from the back called out “Be with you in a minute.”

James looked over at Natasha. “I thought this place was run by a Sarah?”

She looked over with a smirk. “It used to be, before she retired and it was taken over by her son, Steve.”

Before James could respond to that, a small blond man walked out of the back, causing him to do a double take. More than the store, there was something about him, but he couldn’t put a finger on what. “How can— ah, Natasha. You’re early.”

“Traffic was good, for once,” she said with a smirk

“You mean, you drove like a lunatic and probably gave half of Brooklyn a heart attack.”

“I can neither confirm or deny that,” she shrugged, before gesturing to James. “This is who I talked to you about over the phone.”

The man glanced over at James, “Ah, right. Cursed to forget?”

Before Natasha could speak up, James did for himself. “It would appear that way. I was told you could help, that true?”

“Might be. Steve Rogers,” he said, extending his hand out.

“James Barnes, or so they tell me.” He took the man’s hand in his own, and was surprised at the strength in the long fingers. _Artists fingers_ , his mind supplied inanely. He shook off the stray thought, and forced himself to let go before things got too awkward.

“Right, if you two don’t mind, you can step into the back. Just give me a second to close up for the day.”

Doing as they’re told, James and Natasha make their way into the back room, which was less a room for storage like he’d first assumed and more of a lab. There was a giant cauldron in the middle of the floor and the tables were overflowing with papers and vials. A laptop was also sitting precariously on a stack of books on one corner of the smaller of the two tables.

Rather than feel intimidating, it felt safe. Like James could just curl up in the worn chair in the corner and sleep the day away. Steve walked in before he could really consider why he felt so comfortable in the strange little shop, though. 

“Okay, James. If you wouldn’t mind standing here?” Steve gestured toward one of the only empty spaces in the room.

James glanced at Natasha, who gave a single nod. With a sigh, he stepped toward Steve, who looked almost concerned and was doing a bad job of hiding it.

Steve cleared his throat and continued. “Right. I know this might seem weird, but I need you to stay still for a few moments.”

James raised an eyebrow. “May I ask why?”

“To see if I can figure out what was done to you.”

“I thought that was impossible without the warlock who did it.”

Steve let out a small huff. “For SHIELD? Yes.”

“But you’re better.”

“Yes.” He said it without a hint of arrogance, as if it was just a simple fact of life.

“So, why don’t you work for them?”

“They asked, I refused.”

“Steve has this idea that magic should only be used for healing, not harming,” Natasha chimed in.

“She and I have had this debate many times.” But rather than sounding annoyed or offended, Steve sounded rather amused by it. “And I always win.”

“You only win because it’s useful for me to have a contact like you outside of SHIELD, that’s all,” Natasha smiled, as if it was an old joke between the two of them.

“Like now?”

“Like now,” she conceded with a smile.

“Right,” Steve said. “Let’s stop chatting and get to work, shall we?”

Things got serious rather quickly after that. The air became charged, energy like James couldn’t remember feeling before washed over him, surrounding him like a soft blanket. He couldn’t be sure how long they stood there, facing each other as Natasha looked on. Eventually, Steve stepped back, a crease worrying between his eyes. 

“Well, I know what curse was used. And we’re lucky, whoever cast it didn’t have time to finish it.” he said.

“And… that’s good?” James asked.

“Yes, it’s good. It’s a curse to create total devotion to the first person you look at, which is usually the caster. It’s a two part spell. The first part just leaves the person a blank slate of sorts, with the second part, the part binding the victim to the caster, needing to happen as soon as the victim awakes. But, unfortunately for us, the only potion that can be used to break it is a pain in the ass to brew.”

“Can it be done, though?” Natasha sounded worried for the first time.

“Oh yes, it can. Overnight, in fact. But there’s one ingredient that can only be plucked and placed into the brew by the cursed person’s hands only. And it has to be both freshly picked and grown in a specific place.”

“Please tell me this place is close by, Rogers.”

Steve glanced at Natasha. “It’s… in New York?”

Natasha sighed. “Overnight?”

“Yes.”

“Mind if we crash here? If… that’s okay with you, James?”

James looked between Natasha and Steve. Being here, with the two of them, is the safest he’s felt since waking up not remembering his life, and he has no reason to doubt that feeling now. “It’s fine, I don’t mind as long as Steve doesn’t.”

—

Steve was more than willing to play host for the night. There was, unfortunately, one issue.

“I only have two beds. Natasha, you’re free to take the guest room as usual. James, you’re welcome to take my bed. I’ll probably be up and down all night checking on the potion anyway.”

James looked at him. “And when you’re not, where will you rest?”

“The couch,” he said, busy in the linen closet pulling out fresh sheets for both beds.

“No.”

That made Steve stop and stare at James. “Excuse me?”

That look almost made James regret saying anything. He had almost a foot and at least a hundred pounds advantage over Steve, but that look could probably quell a raging lion.

“Um… well… I don’t feel comfortable. Taking your bed. I don’t want to put you out.”

An odd look crossed over Steve’s face for a second before he cleared his throat. “Like I said, I’m going to be up and down all night, and I need you at your best for tomorrow. So unless you can think of a better solution?”

As much as he hated it, he really couldn’t. “Fine. But I’m making breakfast in the morning.”

Steve looked at him skeptically. “Can you cook?”

“No idea! But I’m gonna try.”

“Nope, no, not happening. I like my kitchen not burned down, thank you very much.”

James looked offended. “For all you know, I’m a culinary genius!”

Steve snorted, then looked shocked at himself as he covered his mouth. “Sorry. I don’t know where that came from. And… I supposed you can _try_ to cook us breakfast. But if anything catches on fire, you’re cleaning the mess.”

“Deal,” he said as he extended his hand. Steve took it without hesitation and shook once.

As soon as the beds were set up for the night, Natasha ordered pizza for dinner as a thank you to Steve. But despite the food and the surprisingly easy company both Steve and Natasha made, sleep was hard to find that evening. The void in his memories was beginning to eat away at him a bit. There was an entire life that was just… forgotten. All gone in one instant. And while he trusted Steve’s ability to fix it, there was still that nagging _what if_. What if the potion failed. What if he never got his memories back. Did he even want to? The metal arm, which he hadn’t failed to notice but had been too distracted by the whole not remembering thing to really think about, spoke of something happening to him, something he might not _want_ to remember.

But, Natasha seemed confident he would want his memory back. So he had to trust and hope.

The next morning brought its own struggles. As confident as he’d sounded the night before, cooking turned out to be far more hazardous than he’d expected. It didn’t help that Steve was still knocked out on the couch, looking like he needed all the sleep he could get. So _maybe_ he should have gone with something simpler than waffles and bacon, but he really did want to convey how grateful he was to both Steve and Natasha for taking time out of their lives to help him.

He was struggling with getting the waffle unstuck from the iron when a burning smell started coming from the pan. Steve, looking groggy, came into the kitchen and observed the scene before him, smirked, then grabbed the pan from the stove with an oven mitt and set it in the sink. 

“Need some help, chef?”

“Ha, ha, ha. So… maybe cooking isn’t a hidden talent.”

“Well,” Steve sighed. “It was a nice gesture. But luckily for you we have plenty of cereal and fruit.”

“That sounds like a better plan,” James agreed. “I’ll clean this mess up and you get that set up?”

“Deal.”

It was almost startling how easy it was to work around Steve in the tiny kitchen. They never once bumped into each other, and things got done quicker than they probably should have otherwise. 

Once they were sitting down with a bowl of cereal and fruit in front of them, a thought came to James. “Did you magic the kitchen?”

Steve froze, spoon halfway to his mouth. “Excuse me?”

“Well, as soon as you came in here, things started to go so much more smoothly. Did you do something?”

That odd look was back on Steve’s face. “No. No I didn’t. Trust me, you’d know if I used my magic, and I don’t use it for something as mundane as cleaning pots and pans.”

James opened his mouth to argue with him, but Natasha chose that moment to walk in. “Morning boys. Cooking went well I see, James.”

He glowered as Steve huffed a laugh. “You missed a huge mess, I honestly think he might have actually burned something down if I hadn’t come in when I did.”

“I had it under control!” James would have protested further but then they both turned to look at him at the same time with twin expressions of skepticism on their faces, and the rest of his argument died on his tongue. “Okay, fine. But I tried.”

“I’m sure you did, James,” she said as she passed him, patting him on the shoulder before reaching into the cabinet to grab a bowl of her own.

—

Once breakfast was finished, the mood shifted. Steve went downstairs to finish the last of the incantations and to bottle the potion to get it ready for transport, while James got dressed with some clothes Steve had that happened to fit him. “Old boyfriend of mine,” was all he said when James asked who they belonged to, and didn’t seemed bothered seeing James in them. So he brushed aside his discomfort at wearing another man’s clothes and put them on. 

Finally, they were all downstairs in the shop, ready to go. 

“I would come with, but SHIELD needs me close by to deal with the rest of the fallout.”

“We’ll be okay, Nat,” Steve reassured as he leaned in to give her a hug goodbye.

“And you’re going to be okay, James.”

He nodded. “I trust you, and if you say Steve is trustworthy, then I trust him.”

“Okay. Good luck, both of you. I hope this works.”

With that, she walked out of the shop and into her car. Hearing her car roar to life and speed off reminded him of how fast she managed to get on the busy streets and caused him to shudder a little. It had been mildly terrifying to say the least.

“So, Steve,” he said, shaking himself out of the memory. “Where’s your car? You said something about upstate?”

Steve smirked. “Don’t have a car.”

“Then…” his voice faded as Steve produced two helmets, handing one to James. “A bike?”

Steve nodded, and smiled a smile that made James a little nervous. “Yep. Come with me and I’ll show you.”

He wasn’t sure what he expected, but the beautiful black and chrome beast of a motorcycle was not it. “This can’t be yours,” James said dubiously.

“And why the hell not?”

“Besides the fact you’re almost half its size?”

He said it without thinking, and honestly expected Steve to be offended, but instead he let out a giant snort. “I promise I know how to control her. Unless you’re scared?”

“Me? Scared? No way in hell.”

“Then put on the helmet, tough guy.”

James maintained eye contact as the put the helmet on, then gestured for Steve to get on the bike. After ensuring his own helmet was also secure, Steve settled on, and mimicked James’ gesture, motioning for James to join him.

The ride wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable or awkward as he’d expected it to be, once he stopped tensing up and let himself relax against Steve’s back. Steve wasn’t wrong, he knew exactly how to handle the bike, never once letting it get the better of him. He fell into a sort of lull, the warmth of Steve’s back and the roar of the motorcycle relaxing him like nothing else had yet.

If he was being honest with himself, it was something he’d felt since he’d stepped into the shop, and it all had to do with the man in front of him. He felt right in a way nothing else had, not even Natasha. He’d fought the feeling, knowing there’s a possibility of a someone waiting for him, but every time he looked at Steve, or talked to him, that pull just got stronger and stronger. Holding on to him just made him want to fall even deeper.

Soon, though, they were at their destination. James forced himself to separate from Steve, getting up and stretching, not realizing how tense he’d been holding himself. “How long were we even driving?”

“Five hours,” Steve said as he stretched as well, James wincing when he heard a cracking noise come from the man’s back.

“You okay? That didn’t sound all that great.”

“I’m fine. Had some back issues as a kid that flare up from time to time, but I’m okay.”

“You gonna be fine to get back?”

Steve smiled. “Let’s worry about you first, yeah? We need to find this flower by sundown, and I’m not sure how long it’ll take.”

A thrill shot through James. He’d nearly forgot that was why they were out here in the first place. “Right. The flower.”

“You ready?”

James nodded, and Steve set out into the forest. James followed behind, not wanting to get lost.

Soon, the quiet of the forest started getting to James, and he needed to fill the silence. “So, how did you become a wizard?”

Steve let out a loud laugh. “Oh, I am _not_ a wizard. I’m a hedge witch.”

“Is there a difference?”

Steve nodded. “A huge difference. Mostly in education. Wizards study at schools, hedge witches are typically home-taught and focus more on plant magic.”

“Who taught you?”

“My ma. She was a healer, a very talented one at that. I tried to follow in her footsteps, but I don’t really have the patience.”

“What happened to her?”

Steve looked at him, startled for a second. “Nothing happened to her. She’s living in a townhouse in Brooklyn, enjoying her retirement from the shop. She finally let me take over full time last year.”

James let out a relieved sigh he hadn’t realized he been holding in. “That must have been some argument. I get the feeling she’s as strong willed as you are.”

“Well, I do come by it honestly,” Steve joked. “Come on, I think we’re close.”

James nodded and followed his lead. About a half hour of walking later they stumbled onto a field full of beautiful blue flowers. “We’re here,” Steve said.

“Now what?”

“Well, now you have to find the flower that calls to you.”

James started to take a few steps into the field, but noticed Steve wasn’t following him. 

At his questioning glance, Steve shook his head. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I can’t touch the flower. It has to be you, or else there’s a chance this won’t work.”

James nodded, then focused on frankly intimidating amount of flowers around him. At first, he felt foolish, like he was looking for a specific needle in a stack of needles. But, after a few minutes, he noticed a slight pull in his attention. There was a flower, on the other side of the field, that appeared to almost be _glowing_. He glanced over at Steve who gave an encouraging nod, them slowly made his way over to the one calling his attention, taking care not to trample any of the other flowers around him. The closer he got, the brighter it glowed, like a beacon guiding him. 

Taking a deep breath, he plucked the flower. To his surprise, it felt warm in his palm. As he made his way back, his nerves started to get the better of him. What if the life he’d forgotten was a miserable one? What if it was better this way?

But, no. He’d come all this way, made _Steve_ come all this way. There was no turning back now.

Sensing his hesitation, Steve placed a hand on his arm, the left one, the metal one. “James? I know this is scary, but I promise you, it’s going to be okay.”

“Okay,” he said after a deep breath. “What do we do now?”

Steve took the vial from his pocket and popped the cork off. “You need to pluck the petals, place them in the liquid, swirl it three times, and drink. Fair warning though, once you start drinking, you can’t stop, no matter how disgusting this might taste. Not even the slightest hesitation, do you understand?”

“I do,” James replied as he took the vial from Steve and placed the petals, swirling as instructed, then placing the vial at his lips. After one last glance at Steve, he closed his eyes and let the liquid flow into his mouth. Despite the warning, he was unprepared for just _how_ horribly bitter it was. Through sheer force of will, he got the whole thing down in three quick gulps before tossing the vial away in disgust. 

“Oh my god, Steve, what the fuck did you put in that? You did that on purpose, admit it! You’ve always liked to see me drink your disgusting concoctions and watching my… wait. I… I remember. Stevie, I remember!”

Relief washed over Steve’s face as Bucky picked him up and spun him for a second before leaning down and giving him a deep kiss. After a second he pulled back. “I forgot you, Stevie. I’m so sorry.”

Steve shook his head, leaning back to caress Bucky’s cheek. “Wasn’t your fault. I’m just glad I could get you back.”

Bucky leaned down to give him another kiss before remembering something. “Wait. You said you didn’t have a car, now I know damn well that’s a lie. You just wanted to use my bike, admit it.”

Steve smiled. “Technically it’s a half truth. My ma needed my car for the week, she called after you left for work day before yesterday, and I would have felt guilty having her drive all that way back in the middle of the week.”

Bucky smiled and rolled his eyes. “Sure you would have. But,” he said has he leaned back down again. “I’m driving back.”

“Deal,” Steve said as he pressed his lips to Bucky’s.

Standing in the middle of that field, in the middle of the forest, he finally felt like he was home at last.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
